


48 Hours: Icheb and Hugh

by FanFicBias



Category: Star Trek: Picard, Star Trek: The Next Generation, Star Trek: Voyager
Genre: Character Death Fix, Gen, Hugh - Freeform, Icheb - Freeform, Star Trek: Picard Spoilers
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-03-17
Updated: 2020-03-17
Packaged: 2021-02-28 22:54:07
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,021
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23185084
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/FanFicBias/pseuds/FanFicBias
Summary: A fix fic for a season 1 episode of Star Trek: Picard
Kudos: 25





	48 Hours: Icheb and Hugh

They have the cube in their possession, but understand so little of its operation, Seven thought, as she navigated her backup Romulan ship into a hole in the side of the cube from previous damage. Using her knowledge of Borg construction, she was able to get into a large section of the massive ship undetected, or so she believed.

The small cloaking device she’d managed to salvage from a previous encounter would only last for a short amount of time, so she had to hurry. The call for help she’d received had to have been for a good reason.

She accessed one of the data nodes with her old hookups. The ship was dormant, but certain Romulan computer systems had been jury-rigged to work with the Borg tech. Sloppy, but, ah, here- she found logs.

This one-

Hugh. She watched a Romulan agent throw a knife into Hugh’s neck.

She clenched her fists.

Now she really had to hurry.

Instinctively, she moved through the familiar halls of the ship towards the location indicated in the log.

Once she got there, careful to avoid any potential notice, she searched desperately for Hugh’s body. It took some more searching on the local data grid, with more delays considering how jury-rigged it all was before she found where they were dumping the corpses of Borg they killed before jettisoning them into space.

When she got to the piles of bodies, she scanned for Hugh.

God, this was going to take forever!

Quickly digging through bodies, she eventually found him, the blood around his throat still looking rather fresh, although his eyes had already rolled into his head.

Consulting a medical scanner, she estimated he had only been dead for a few hours.

That was good, very good.

The collective had revived dead drones after 48 hours before, but she was hardly working with that kind of technology. So, just a few hours? 

She would take it.

Not wasting time, she injected some of her own nanites into the site of the wound. Hugh quickly began to look significantly more like a drone, but in time, the wound healed, and he 

“Pretended to be dead right away?” Seven asked, as Hugh came to consciousness and took a huge, shuddering breath, his eyes a little wild.

He looked over at Seven, and took a few more breaths, feeling at his neck.

“Of course,” he said, with a shaky grin.

“Didn’t have to pretend for too long though,” He added.

Keeping her eyes on scanning the exits around the dumping ground, she said-

“These Romulans- their obsessed with Borg technology but lack knowledge of it. Regeneration is one of our primary abilities.”

“I tried regenerating myself, but did not quite get there,” He said, sheepishly.

Not taking her eyes off the doorways, Seven showed him the results of her scan of him.

“You did rather well, actually. If you hadn’t regenerated part of it, slowing the damage, your tissues may not have recovered at all with the little I could add to help,” She said.

Hugh scratched at the new metal lattice around his neck, sighing.

“I can add these scars to the old I suppose,” he said. “Thanks. For saving my life.”

“Your romulan…benefactors have gone too far. We’re going to fix that. First though, we have to make sure that I didn’t save your life.”

After making sure that the Borg drones were behind resuscitation, Seven and Hugh vented all of the bodies into space.

That was only the first part though.

“Now wait here,” Seven said as she looked again for information on where the tracker was pulling her. “I have more work to do, but I’ll be right back. Try not to act too alive.”

**  
A young man with implants blinked as Hugh entered into the heart of Seven’s small Romulan ship.

“I am not called Icheb,” The man said. “Anymore.”

Seven gave the man a sharp look.

Icheb raised his hands, smiling.

“It’s funny to pretend to be incompetent when you are not,” He said.

“Do not make pretending to be incompetent a pattern, or it will become a reality,” She said dryly.

“What’s happening?” Hugh asked. “Icheb? I thought Icheb was dead.”

“Exactly,” Seven said. “And now he is no longer hunted.”

“But-“ Hugh began, his mind racing. “You said that he-“

“It took some time to acquire an already dead drone that was similar enough to Icheb’s size that I could easily alter him with nanites to appear to be Icheb to all but the most trained eye, especially after I swapped Icheb for the dead body and destroyed its ocular cavities. Fortuantely, Bjazels eyes were only moderately trained.”

“How did you get him out without detection?”

Seven was already at the controls, carefully navigating on the side of the borg cube that had the least Romulan equipment, moving between its sensor clusters to prevent detection, even with their cloak on. The Borg Cube was theirs now, but she still didn’t want any eyes on her.

“The same way that I brought the duplicate body in. It took some salvaging to find a portable transporter with a pattern buffer I could hide both the drone and then Icheb in, but only a device of Borg design was small enough for my purposes.” She said over her shoulder.

“Honestly, the hard part was the acting. I think I went over the top with the tearful goodbyes, but Icheb disagrees.”

“What little I heard before I was put in the buffer was quite convincing,” He said, with a grin.

After getting far enough away that it was safe, she dropped the cloak, which was close to its limit anyway.

Turning to the two men, she clasped her hands behind her back and said, formally-

“So now, you are both dead. It is much safer this way.”

A smile cracking at the corner of her mouth betrayed her simulacrum of the Old Seven of Nine.

Annika sighed and fell back into her pilot’s chair.

“Now, let’s get the hell out of here. I'm sick of both kinds of dead- fake and real.”


End file.
